


Shooting for Gold

by prettycheese21



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 2016 Summer Olympics, And surprisingly clumsy, Avengers Family, Gen, Injury, Olympics, based on an rp, clint is a dork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 08:25:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8137198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettycheese21/pseuds/prettycheese21
Summary: Due to certain circumstances, Clint is forced to become apart of the U.S. Olympic archery team. The events that unfold as a result are as expected: tragically hilarious.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I AM SORRY  
> I'm not dead!  
> Just a very stressed individual who just moved and got cast in a school play. In the same month.
> 
> I haven't stopped writing. I just haven't had the time to get around to posting things. So yeah...  
> Anyway, this is a collab piece I did with @avengeultrons on Tumblr (go check her out, she's amazing!).  
> She wrote for Tony, Scott, and Peter while I wrote for Clint, Natasha, and Steve.  
> Enjoy!

    Clint should have known things between the Avengers and the government weren’t settled. He should have known when the Department of Defense stopped mailing him or spamming him with phone calls that they had something big planned, but he hadn’t expected it to be of this caliber.

   “They can’t do this!” Clint shouted as he stared open-mouthed at the letter in his hand, the shock finally dissipating after reading it for the third time.

   “What’s going on?” Tony popped his head into the living room, an eyebrow raised curiously at the man standing stationary with a sour look on his face. Clint dropped the official looking letter carelessly onto the floor with a huff, a gesture that seemed to say “see for yourself”.

   Natasha had followed in after Tony, picking up the paper from the floor and reading it closely. When she was finished, she raised an eyebrow, “You’re kidding me, right? Can the government really force you to participate in the Olympics?”

   “I don’t know! Apparently?!” Clint shouted, arms gesturing wildly in his frustration.

   “You’re sad about that?” Scott followed the noise of the quarrel going on into the living room, a bowl full of buttery popcorn in his hands. “Ever since I was a little tyke, I’ve wanted to compete in the Olympics. Thought I was gonna be a famous gymnast. Sadly, that didn’t happen.” He shrugged, stuffing a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

   Tony looked over at Scott oddly, confusion written across his features, “Not helping,” he chided, his lips pressed into a thin line.

   “Okay, we’ll get back to my thing in a minute,” Clint began, “but I gotta know…. A gymnast, Scott?” His voice reflected genuine curiosity as he looked at the man in question.

    “Yes, I wanted to be a gymnast. What’s the big deal? Have you ever seen them on those parallel bars? So powerful…” Scott’s voice trailed off as he stared off into space, remembering the good old days in his first gymnastics class.

   “You’ll have to show us your gymnastics skills next time we have a training session,” Natasha stated.

    “Who’s gonna show who what now?” Steve asked confused as he entered the room to join the others. “What’s going on? Why are we all standing living room?”

    “Scott is a gymnast and the government is forcing Clint to be on the Olympic archery team,” Natasha summarized.

    Steve looked even more confused than before, “Wait- what?”

    “Yeah, apparently it’s either this or go to jail for 2 years,” Clint explained in a huff.

    “But… why?” Steve raised an eyebrow.

    “Something about one of the last missions I had going wrong. Apparently they had to do some extensive cover up to keep this from hitting the presses and this is my way of repaying them.”

    “We’re going to the Olympics?” Peter dropped his backpack onto the couch and scooped the letter up from the coffee table, his eyes widening as he read it. He noticed no one was too happy about it. “Wait, you’re going to do it. Right?”

    “Well, if I don’t want to go to prison I’m kind of gonna have to do it,” Clint griped as he took the letter from Peter, looking it over again as he sighed.

    “Laura isn’t going to be happy about this,” Natasha commented with a smirk, knowing he would be in for quite the talk.

    “Don’t I know it,” he muttered. Turning to the rest of his friends, he asked, “So who wants to tell my wife I have to report to Olympic training camp in a week?” He certainly didn’t want to tell his wife he’d be gone for who-knows-how-long… again.

*****

    Those were the events leading up to the Rio 2016 Olympic Games. For Scott, Peter and Natasha, they couldn’t be more excited to cheer on Clint and the rest of Team USA. For everyone else, they couldn’t understand why the government wanted him on their archery team so bad. Sure, he was a great shot, but usually it was weird aliens or robots.

    Tony shielded his eyes from the sun as the Avengers made their way through the stadium to their seats, bumping into Peter as he stopped abruptly to take a picture for Aunt May, “Hey! You can’t just stop suddenly without warning anybody!” Tony said, rolling his eyes as he patiently waited for the kid to get a move on. Tony smiled weakly over at Natasha, who was giving him the side-eye, her Team USA temporary tattoo shining on her cheek.

    “Did everybody put on sunscreen before they left?” Steve asked for the hundredth time as they finally got to their seats. “We’re going to be here a while since it’s the qualifying rounds and I don’t want anybody to get burnt.”

    “Would you relax, Gramps? Most of us have those dumb hats on anyways,” Tony kicked his feet up on the railing in front of him, nodding his head at Scott’s Rio 2016 visor. He didn’t particularly think Scott was a visor type guy. But, he didn’t think he was a kid gymnast, either.

    Peter laughed at Tony’s joke, trying to gain some brownie points with his mentor. When he wasn’t looking, though, Steve passed a large bottle of SPF 100 sunscreen behind his back for Peter to smear onto his face.

“Hey, Nat, did you talk to Clint this morning? How was he?”

_“Nat, this is so stupid. Why do I have to compete with these guys? I mean, I’ve shot thousands of arrows in the past 10 years alone. That’s half the age of pretty much all of the other dudes competing. I have to be the oldest one here!” Clint groaned, his voice holding hints of anxiety._

_“Clint, it’s going to be fine,” Natasha told him._

_“That’s the point! I have fought narcissistic robots and aliens with just a bow and arrow and I hit my target every time. And those targets moved a hell of a lot more than these ones will. Do they really think I can lose? This is like taking candy from a baby, Nat. It’s wrong.”_

_“Would you rather go to prison?”_

_“No, but-”_

_“This is nothing but another stupid job the government wants to shove down your throat. They want the U.S. to have some good PR and you can provide them that. So suck it up and do your job, Barton.”_

   “Oh he’s fine. He’s feeling confident,” Natasha answered Steve’s question.

   “Doesn’t sound like the Barton I spoke to,” Tony said with a huff, pushing his sunglasses higher onto the bridge of his nose. Everyone knew how sour Clint was acting the weeks leading up to their departure to Rio.

   “If everybody could just quit yapping for just a second, I’ve just learned that they have trading pins! Oh, and Clint’s up,” Scott rolled his eyes at the group, leaning over on his knees to check out the trading pins Peter had collected “for Aunt May”.

   “And now representing the United States of America-” an English voice began. It was then followed by another phrase in another language, most likely saying the same thing, before it finished with the name the crew had been waiting to hear, “Clint Barton.”

   The crowd erupted into cheers as Clint stepped out and took his place, looking a bit ridiculous in his Olympic attire.

   “Wow,” Natasha said, “I never thought Clint would look that terrible in this level of patriotic attire.”

   The officials called for silence in the arena as Clint was in position. Once he was given the okay, Clint lined up his shot and fired it, executing a perfect bullseye in mere seconds.

   The crowd once again cheered as Clint upped the standard for the rest of the Olympic archers and shot up into first place.

   Over the speakers the sound of a commentator broke through, “Wow. It’s only the qualifying rounds and the American archer is already making it clear to everyone who’s going to win the gold.”

   Steve’s eyes widened as he continued to read the screens, “Did that just say Barton broke a world record?”  
Natasha just sat there smirking, “Oh he is going to love this.”

   As Natasha and Steve stared in awe, Tony took matters into his own hands to yell some words of encouragement. “Come on, Katniss! You can do it!” his voice echoed through the practically silent arena, which led to him receiving a glare from Natasha.

   “It’s supposed to be quiet so they can concentrate,” Scott said, sinking down into the uncomfortable chairs as onlookers shook their heads at Tony.

   Steve reached over Natasha, much to her annoyance, and smacked the man on the arm. “Tony, be quiet!” he hissed, his ‘I Am Captain America and I Am Your Leader’ face on as he gave him a hard look.

   “Okay, okay. Sorry,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. When Steve had sat down, he proceeded to shout, “COME ON, MERIDA! SHOOT THE DAMN TARGET!” Everyone stared at him with wide eyes as he smugly sat back down, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly.

   “I think he wants us to get kicked out,” Peter muttered to Steve, careful not to let Tony hear.

   One of the guards walked over to Tony and told him in a tone that left little room for argument, “Sir, I need you to come with me.”

   “No, he just wants to get himself kicked out of the Olympics,” Natasha said under her breath to the intently listening Steve and Peter.

   The super soldier just shook his head and sighed, “Why am I not surprised?”

   “What are we supposed to do? Just let the security guards take Mr. Stark to some weird Olympic prison?” Peter asked nervously, watching Tony get up to leave.

   “Not gonna happen, kid,” Tony muttered under his breath, taking his sunglasses off. “Tony Stark. Nice to meet you. My sincerest apologies for disrupting the games,” he said, buttoning his suit jacket. Who wears suits to the Olympic Games and charms themselves out of trouble? Tony Stark, apparently.

   “You’re the Tony Stark?” the security guard’s face lit up with glee, a smile stretching across his features.

   “He’s going to try and charm himself out of this?” Steve asked in a whispered shout, his voice coated in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”

   “This can’t be happening,” Scott said over the cheers. The crowd was now chanting “USA” over and over. Clint’s turn had come and gone again. Besides the distractions of his own cheerleading squad in the stand, he was doing a wonderful job.

   “Surely there’s something I can do to prove to you how sorry I am.“ Tony’s eyes were filled with fake sympathy as the guard pulled out his phone, asking for a photo with him.

   “Oh, but it is,” Peter said, not even bothering to look away from the competition.

    As Tony proceeded to take a selfie with the guard, Steve groaned, “How is it that he gets away with everything?”

   “He’s Tony Stark. He’s charming,” Natasha explained before following that up with “For some reason.”

   “Now that that’s settled, what’s going on?” Tony asked gleefully, relaxing back in his chair. Steve and Natasha shook their heads, returning their gaze back to the archery competition.

   “Teach me your ways,” Scott teased, though he was slightly in awe.

   “Guys, I think Mr. Barton’s… winning,” Peter said as he stood up from his chair, shielding his eyes from the bright sun as he looked to the arena.

   “And that’s the end of the qualifying rounds,” the commentator’s voice boomed over the speaker. “Unsurprisingly, the newcomer from the Avengers has kept his position at first, with the other semifinalists fighting for the remaining spots. The semifinals will take place tomorrow at 2pm, barring any potential weather delays.”

   “Yeah, I’d say he’s winning,” Steve quipped. “I guess whatever higher ups sent him here are going to be very happy with the results.”

    Scott immediately jumped to his feet and ran to the railing, flailing his arms wildly to get Clint’s attention. Surely he wasn’t too bitter about it now. He had a real shot at winning a gold medal!

    “I can’t believe you’re actually doing it,” Tony joined Scott and the others at the railing as Clint gathered his things, looking up at them with a hard glare. “I thought you didn’t even want to do it. Yet, here you are. Merida never misses.”

    Clint finished disassembling his bow as he grumbled, “There went four hours I’ll never get back.”

    “What do you mean? You’re in first going into the semifinals,” Steve asked, his brow furrowed. “Unless you break your hand, I think you’re going to win the gold. Aren’t you excited about that?”

    “No.” At everyone’s startled looks, he explained with a simple sentence. “That was so easy, it was boring. I could do this simple target practice with my eyes closed and my back turned.”

    “I’m sure tomorrow will be a breeze as well. Just enjoy it! You’re in the Olympics, man!” Scott shouted at him, a wide smile on his face.

     “If you want, I’ll break your arm for you just so we can get out of here.” Tony shook his head as his eyes quickly panned the crowd. People were painted and dressed in Brazil’s colors as they cheered loudly, despite the end of the match. “Why is everyone painted green and yellow?”

     “Those are the colors of Brazil’s flag,” Peter responded, slinging his travel backpack over his shoulder.

     “It wasn’t a legit question, Parker,” Tony rolled his eyes as the rest of the Avengers stifled their laughter.

*****

     The semifinals came and went. Just as Scott predicted, it had been a breeze, as Clint easily took first position and secured himself a spot in the final round. He was only a few shots away from a gold medal.

    The others met up at the entrance to the stadium, wanting to gather before they went back up into the stands as well as to catch Clint on his way in to wish him good luck.

    Steve, sporting a painful shade of lobster red due to his widespread sunburn, looked over at Natasha, “Where is he? Shouldn’t he be here by now?”

    “He might have overslept. He tends to do that when he doesn’t want to do things. He used to do that with SHIELD meetings,” Natasha said.

    “He’s flaked on us! We’re going to be sitting here all day watching some archery competition that Clint won’t even be in,” Tony huffed, leading the group into the stands.

    “Clint wouldn’t flake out in the Olympics. Not with so much at stake,” Scott shook his head, now dressed head to toe in his Rio 2016 tourist get up. He’d spent quite a lot of time in the gift shop.  

    “I think I just heard his name,” Peter peeked around the large hoards of people standing around, his eyes widening, “Why the hell is he in a sling?”

    Clint seemed to saunter towards them, the picture of nonchalance. He flashed them a smile, “'Sup, guys?”

    Steve gave him a once over, his brow furrowing in a way that agitated his sunburn. “Why are you in a sling, Clint?”

   “Why do you look like a lobster-human love-child?”

   “Quit deflecting, Barton,” Natasha stated, giving Clint a hard look. “Answer the question.”

   It was Clint’s turn to furrow his brow as he looked anywhere but his friends. “I fell down the stairs,” he finally mumbled, his foot kicking a random pebble near his foot.

   “What was that?” the redhead asked, an amused smirk crossing her face.

   “I fell down the stairs, okay?!” he said a little too loudly, drawing a few curious eyes. “I fell down the stairs on my out of the hotel for my morning workout and I dislocated my elbow.”

   “Wow, only Clint holds the world record for archery and clumsiness,” Tony leaned over on the handrail, watching Clint assemble his bow one handed.

    “Wait, you can’t compete, can you? I mean, that’s gotta hurt like hell!” Peter proclaimed, scratching the back of his head in bemusement.

    “Yeah, what Parker says. There’s no way you can compete!” Scott shook his head at Clint, his eyebrows knitting together in concern.

    “I have to. You saw that letter. I’ll go to prison if I don’t,” Clint said matter-of-factly, setting down his bow and unbuckling his sling, taking it off. His elbow was bruised and slightly puffy, but otherwise looked pretty normal. Well if normal was a shade of dark purple with blue speckles.

    “Clint, you’re risking reinjury,” Steve stated.

    “I popped it back in. I’ll be fine.”

   “Even if you did pop it back in, if you go out and compete now, you could risk making it worse. You can’t go out there.”

   “Watch me.” With that, the archer grabbed his bow and turned around to go back to the entrance area to await his turn.

   “Is he always this stubborn?” the super soldier asked Natasha, who had been strangely silent during the exchange.

   “He does what he wants. Even I can’t stop him when he’s like this,” she responded. “What I can tell you is he knows his own limits. If he didn’t think he could do it, he wouldn’t even try. I’ve seen him shoot with a broken hand before and do just fine.”

   “Well, Clint’s up. I cannot believe he’s going through with this. I’m sure the government would understand,” Scott shook his head as the crowd erupted in applause as Clint’s name was yelled over the speakers in the arena.

   “He shouldn’t be allowed to even attempt this. Not with that injury,” Tony murmured. Everyone was on the edge of their seats as Clint stepped up to take his first shot.

   The commentators didn’t hold back their comments as Clint began to set up for his shot. “The American favorite may not get the gold after all, as it seems he’s sustained an injury to his elbow,” the male commentator told the crowd.

   “I don’t know, Chris,” a female voice chimed in. “He is one of earth’s mightiest Avengers. I don’t think a simple elbow injury is going to impede on his performance.”

    “That doesn’t mean it won’t hurt like hell, Trish.”

    The stadium fell silent as Clint pulled back on the bowstring. As the camera zoomed in on his face, the only sign that anything was wrong was the tightness of his features. While this was usual for other competitors in their state of intense concentration, it showed that Clint was more uncomfortable than he originally let on. He released the arrow and it hit its target dead center. The stadium erupted into cheers.

   “Yet another perfect shot from Barton!” Chris said in an excited voice. 

   “He won’t wanna back down now. Too much is riding on this win,” Tony said, staring in awe at Clint as he stepped back to watch the other competitors take their turn, clutching his elbow, “I hate to say this; but Team USA needs him. They won’t win without him.”

   “If they want gold that is,” Natasha stated. “Last time any U.S. athlete won the gold in archery was back in the ‘96 Olympics and the last time we medaled period was in 2000 with a silver.”

   “How do you even know that?” Steve asked.

   “I did some research before the games.”

   “He looks like he’s in a lot of pain. Will he be able to finish?” Peter looked to the stadium, practically biting his nails from the tension. Clint’s face was contorted in a painful grimace as he got ready for his second turn.

   “He’s always been a big baby when it comes to pain but he fights through it,” Natasha told Peter in an attempt to ease his worries.

    As Clint stepped up for round two, the commentators were quick to once again jump on his condition, noticing his now obvious discomfort. “It appears whatever injury Barton sustained before he got here today has been exacerbated by performing in this finals competition,” Trish stated. “He’s obviously in pain, yet it looks like he’s going to continue on with round two anyway.”

   They fell silent as the officials called for silence, allowing Clint to continue with his shot.

   It happened fast after that.

   Clint was confident in his stance, looking as if nothing was out of the ordinary aside from the small grimace of pain on his face as he drew back the string of the bow, as he’d done thousands of times before. It was when he adjusted his aim slightly to accommodate the breeze that had formed that things went wrong.

   His grip on the string went suddenly lax and the arrow was released before he could stop it. As the arrow flew and hit in the ring just outside the center of the target, Clint doubled over, clutching his arm. His bow clattered to the ground as he gasped in pain. Medics were already rushing over to him as Natasha got to her feet and made her way to the railing, fully intending to leap over it and get to him. “That’s not good,” was all she had time to mutter before she took off in a sprint toward her friend.

   “Woah, can she do that?” Scott stood up abruptly, shielding his eyes from the sun. The only thing they could see of Natasha was her fiery red hair flying wildly in the wind as she sprinted over to her friend’s side.

   “She’s Natasha Romanoff. She can do whatever the hell she wants,” Tony said, watching as Clint resisted being taken off of the field, “What on earth is he doing?”

   “I am fine!” Clint insisted yet again as the field medics tried once again to drag him out of the arena. “Let me go.”

   “Sir, we need to check out your arm to make sure it’s not injured,” one of the medics, a short female, insisted.

   It was then Natasha came to join them. “What’s going on?”

   Clint shook his head, not even surprised that she was suddenly by his side. “Nothing, Nat. I’m trying to tell these guys that I’m _fine_.”

   “Depending on the severity of your prior elbow dislocation, a bone could have fractured and the resulting trauma to the surrounding tissues could have sent out a clot,” the medic spoke again, giving Clint a hard look. “If it is a clot and we don’t treat it now, you could lose your hand or it could break off and travel to your heart and kill you.” Clint remained obstinate in his stance. “Look, if nothing is wrong you can come right back out here and finish your last round.”

   He was silent a few moments longer before sighing and walking off in the direction he’d seen the medics come from, Natasha following close behind him. Better safe than sorry.  
“Barton is being escorted off the field,” Trish observed. “This could spell trouble for the American team hoping for their first gold medal since 1996.”

   Steve looked at the others, his expression one of concern as he asked, “Do you think he’s okay?”

   “Surely he’s fine. It’s Clint!” Tony said, drawing in a shaky breath. He didn’t know if he was trying to convince everyone else or himself.

   “I think it’s the end of the road. There’s no way in hell they’ll let him come back out. Will they?” Scott asked, tapping his foot impatiently as the archery competition continued on.

****

   After the medics closely examined his injured arm and asked him too many questions for his taste, Clint was finally given some answers as to what happened.

   “The good news is, it’s not a clot,” the woman told him.

   “Well then what’s wrong? My hand doesn’t just go numb and stop working for no reason,” Clint asked.

   “It looks like a pinched nerve in your elbow, probably caused by the dislocation,” she began. “My recommendation is that you begin resting your elbow immediately and withdraw from the rest of the competition.”

   “And if I don’t?”

   Natasha, who had been content to stay quiet and let him handle it, immediately jumped in, “Clint.”

   “You risk nerve damage, as well as tears in your muscles, tendons, and ligaments,” the medic explained. “I also suggest getting your elbow reset. From what I can tell, it wasn’t properly done the first time and that’s more than likely causing some of your problems.”

   Clint shrugged, “That’s what happens when you do it yourself.”

   “Wait, you what?” Natasha whirled on him in an instant.

   He ignored her, instead asking the medic, “Would I be risking my life if I went back out there for the last round?”

   The medic looked taken aback, her eyes widening in shock. He wanted to go back out there when he was in pain? Why? She shook her head and answered, “No, but I strongly advise against-” 

   “Well, that settles it. I’m doing it.”

   “Mr. Barton-”

   “I’ll go to a hospital after I shoot. Scout’s honor.” Clint stood and made his way back to the arena entrance.

   Natasha was quick to follow after her friend. “You were never boy scout,” she stated.

   “Yeah, but the doc doesn’t need to know that.”

   “Don’t do anything stupid, Clint.”

   “I’m not.” When Natasha raised an eyebrow, he was quick to reassure, “I’m not! I swear. It’s one more round. What’s the worst that can happen?”

*****

   Steve and the others had been pretty silent as they waited for news on Clint when they spotted their favorite archer coming back into the arena just as the commentators announced, “I have just been told that American archer Clint Barton has decided to return for his final round, despite his injury,” Trish’s voice broadcasted.

   “He doesn’t look any better than when he left,” came Chris’ reply.

   “Yeah, he definitely looks like he’s not having a good time right now.”

   “Is he crazy?!” Scott shouted over the loud cheers coming from the crowd. The team could practically see the pain on Clint’s face as he assembled his bow once more, their mouths hanging open in disbelief.

   “He’s gotta be, like, super hurt,” Peter shook his head as Clint stepped up to take his shot, trying to take a mental picture of the events unfolding before him.

    “We did some score calculations,” Trish began as Clint headed toward the shooting range.

    “According to our math, Barton needs to get a bullseye if he wants to win the gold medal and he can’t be any farther off than he was in his previous round if he hopes to medal at all.”

    Chris let out a low whistle, “That is a tall order to fill, Trish. Can he do it with such an injury?”

    Clint set up his stance and pulled his bow up. As he drew back the bowstring, he let out an audible noise of pain, aiming at the center. His could feel his muscles, which were significantly weaker from his injury, begin to shake slightly from the effort of keeping a solid grip on his arrow. He knew if he didn’t shoot soon, his hands would shake enough to affect his shot.

    With this in mind and a quick double check of his aim, he let the arrow fly, hoping he wouldn’t be off this time. He immediately dropped his bow after the shot was made to clutch his arm, the pain and tingling traveling down his arm intensifying. He didn’t even need to look at the target to know what had happened. The deafening cheers from the crowd said everything.

    “Bullseye! He’s done it! Barton has won the gold!” Chris practically screamed in excitement. “Despite a terrible arm injury, newcomer archer Clint Barton has manged to win the United States a gold medal.”

    “We just witnessed history. A man who saved Earth who knows how many times has once again proven just how incredible he is.”

    Back in the stands, Steve was in his feet and cheering, “He did it! He actually did it!” His smile fell off his face as he noticed Clint hobbling off the field with the aid of the medics as the crowd continued to cheer, seemingly unaware of what was going on below. “Uh oh. We should go and check on him.”

    “What are we waiting for?!” Tony, now more nervous about his colleague than ever, hopped the railing and took off through the arena, the others not far behind. He caught sight of Clint with the medics on standby, flailing his arms to try and get his attention. Trying to holler at him would be no use, the crowd’s chants and cheers would just drown him out.

    Clint finally looked over, giving a thumbs up with his good arm, “He did it,” Peter stood in awe, watching as the Olympic Committee came over to congratulate him, briefing him on the medal ceremony.

    “Let’s go see what the damage is,” Scott said, nodding his head over to Clint.

   “Nice job, idiot,” Natasha said in greeting as the group approached their friend approached him. “You actually managed to pull it off.”

    “But at what cost?” Steve asked.

   “Can I get lectured later?” Clint groaned as the medics took a blood sample for mandatory drug testing. “At least wait until they can give me pain meds.”

   “What happened? Are you okay?” The super soldier asked, his brow furrowing in concern.

   “Pinched nerve in my elbow apparently caused by my terrible attempts at popping it back in,” Clint said nonchalantly before he let out a quiet yelp when the medics suddenly dislocated his elbow again. Clint stopped the others before they could protest. “They gotta reset it. Properly this time,” he said, his breath stuttering as a loud pop filled the air, confirming that the elbow joint was put back into place.

   “Wait, you popped it back in?” Scott inquired, waiting until Clint’s painful grimace was erased before shaking his head at him, “Are you insane?”

    “It’s Clint. Of course he his,” Tony said, offering a high five to Clint’s good arm, “Now you’re a superhero _and_ an Olympic gold medalist!”

   As he helped the medics get his arm back into the sling, Clint said, “I’m just glad I won’t have to do this again. I won them a gold medal. You can’t do much better than that.”

   “Unless they want another gold medal,” Natasha stated. “In which case, they’ll probably call upon you again for the Tokyo Olympics.”

   Clint let out a sigh, “Man… I was really hoping you wouldn’t say that out loud.”

   One of the medics approached Clint with a bottle of pills in hand. “Good news, Mr. Barton,” he began. “Your drug test came back clean so now we can actually give you some medication for the pain.” Shaking out two pills, he handed them over to Clint, who dry swallowed them easily. “Don’t drive or handle any heavy machinery for the next few hours. Those are some pretty heavy painkillers you just took.”

    “Yeah, yeah, I know the drill,” Clint waved him off dismissively with his good hand. “I’ll just chill for the next ten minutes until the medal ceremony. Besides, I have five superpowered babysitters. I can’t exactly do much with them watching me like a hawk.” It was then he started giggling at his own unintended joke. “Hawk. They’re watching me like a hawk. It’s funny. ‘Cause I’m Hawkeye.”

   “Have the pain meds already kicked in or are you always terrible at jokes?” Scott inquired with a smirk.

   “He’s always terrible at jokes, Lang. Get used to it,” Tony said with a laugh, watching Clint as he slowly slipped a medal ceremony uniform jacket onto his shoulders, “Though, I gotta say, those drugs aren’t helping. Even if the government made you participate, you won gold. That’s  pretty cool. You even managed to break a world record with that old elbow of yours,”

    “My elbow is old?” Clint asked as he stood up, looking down at his injured joint in confusion. “Can joints get old?”

    Natasha barely refrained from chuckling as she put a hand on his shoulders and turned him around in the direction of the ceremony. “Alright, let’s get you to that ceremony so you can sleep off these painkillers, lightweight.”

*****

   It had been a couple days since Clint’s final competition in the Olympics and everyone was reassembled back at Stark Tower to watch the highlights. Even though they had already seen the medal ceremony, they couldn’t resist teasing Clint about his drugged state during the ceremony.

   “Oh, look! Here he comes!” Scott practically squealed, snatching the tv remote out of Peter’s hand to turn the volume up. Clint stepped up onto the 1st place podium a little shakily, refusing help from anyone. He waved to the crowd and flashed a smile, movements lethargic from the pain meds.

   “Wow. You can barely tell you’re on painkillers,” Tony said with a laugh, watching Clint receive his medal proudly.

   “That’s because I’m trained to look more in control than I actually am,” Clint said, his right arm still secure in the sling.

   “And we turn our attention to one of the most exciting moments during this Olympics,” the male announcer began, “Avenger Clint Barton made history as he broke a world record and took home the gold in archery for the U.S. All with an injured elbow. They showed the clip of Clint’s second round, with him bending over and clutching his arm in pain. This was immediately followed up with his final shot that gained him glory. “It was in this moment that Clint Barton made Olympic history and proved beyond a doubt that he is one of earth’s mightiest.”

   They cut back to the medal ceremony as the man continued, “Despite this amazing athletic achievement, Barton also proved himself human during the medal ceremony.”

   Natasha smirked, “Here it comes.”

   It showed Clint with his hand over his heart as they played the national anthem. As the song came to an end, he went to go closer to the others to get a picture. But, due to his drugged state, his footing wasn’t quite there causing him to slip and fall off the podium, flailing slightly as he went. “It seemed that Barton was more affected by the medication given by the medics than anyone originally thought,” the announcer chuckled.

   “Oh, man. That never gets old,” Tony said through laughter, his eyes brimming with tears.

    Clint rolled his eyes, but inevitably joined in on the laughter, too.

   “Is this thing recorded? I want to watch it every time I feel sad,” Scott wiped tears out of his own eyes, rewinding it to watch again.

   “Can you imagine if you didn’t go? You’d be sitting in prison instead of watching yourself fall off of a podium,” Tony said encouragingly, noticing Clint’s glare at the others.

   “Some people on YouTube have made it into a remix. N-not that I’ve watched it,” Peter said with a final shrug.

   “What? You’ve gotta let me see,” Scott leaned over the back of the couch to see Clint’s fall with music behind it. The internet is an interesting place.

   “My kids are going to have a field day with this,” Clint muttered as he ran his good hand down his face.

   “Clint,” Natasha began, “I’m pretty sure they already have. I’d bet one of those videos is their creation.”

   “Of course.”

   “They’re your kids. What did you expect?” she chuckled as Tony put a particularly funny remix video on the TV screen for everyone to see.

   “It wouldn’t surprise me if Scott made one, either,” Tony said with a chuckle, still unable to contain his laughter from the video.

   “Hey, don’t start pointing fingers, now! Even if I did make it,” Scott’s face went red as he looked down at his shoes.

   “You made it?” Peter asked through his laughter.

   “Like I said. Wouldn’t surprise me. “

   “I hate all of you,” Clint grumbled as he awkwardly and with much difficulty crossed his arms in a pout.

   “Oh, come on. You know you love us,”

   Tony teased, nudging him with his elbow.

   Clint took one glance up at Peter and Scott barely containing their laughter at another video of him that had popped on screen and said without any sort of hesitance, “I really don’t.”

   But, truly, he did.

**Author's Note:**

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